The French Door (Published initially in Clean Sheets Magazine, May 2006) I “You’re so close, aren’t you,” she murmured, slowing her hip movements. My muscles tightened and trembled as I strained against the deep throbbing inside her. I was hovering right at that threshold, aching with desperation for release. “Stop!” I gasped out. She halted. The soft nibbling on my earlobe ceased, replaced by a bite just firm enough to pull me back from the brink. “We could finish it now,” she urged gently. A cool sensation washed over me as she lifted her buttocks slightly before sinking down onto me again. “Four or five more strokes and it’ll be done. It would feel amazing! Just one little word. That’s all I need.” “Never!” I gritted out the word through my teeth. “You’re not going to win this round.” II It had begun the previous day while we were redecorating the family room. My wife, Lia, stood on a stool covered in plastic, rolling paint onto the ceiling, while I used a roller with an extension handle. We started from opposite ends and met in the middle. Cursing as another droplet of paint splattered my face, I stopped to stretch out the kinks in my sore back. “Getting older isn’t exactly fun,” I said, wincing at the pain. “Oh, there are plenty of compensations,” she smiled. “Now that we’re retired, our time is ours again. We’re still young enough to have fun and enjoy the grandkids. A bit of stiffness now and then is a small price to pay.” “You’re right, of course! We are lucky, but I do wish my back was less prone to stiffness and more prone to stiffness in the front!” She laughed, her smile lines deepening around her grey-blue eyes. “Oh, we usually get there eventually, and besides, I think it’s rather nice to take our time. You always tell me that the journey matters at least as much as the destination!” We put away our tools and drop cloths, stripped off, and headed for the shower. As steam billowed around us, I caressed Lia’s soft curves while she thoroughly soaped parts of my body that couldn’t possibly have been spattered with paint. My hands ran over her thighs. “Muscles,” I noted. “All that exercise is really paying off.” Lia walked everywhere in town, using the car only as a last resort. Recently, she’d taken up weights to tone her limbs. A gifted cook who had struggled with her weight for much of her life, she’d finally found a happy balance in recent years—confident in her attractiveness while still enjoying good meals and perhaps a glass or two of wine. Lia struck a body-builder pose and I whistled appreciatively. It was late, so getting dressed again seemed unnecessary; we settled for bathrobes and a bottle of wine instead. Lia raised her glass, mischief sparkling in her eye. “We’ll do the walls tomorrow, and then while you paint the French door, I’ll handle the trim.” The French door, her pride and joy, separated the family room from the kitchen. The wretched thing had fifteen small windows with wooden lattice-work between them. When Lia first suggested a French door, I argued strenuously for something simpler. Painting it required a mile of masking tape, considerable patience, and hours of time. “Oh come on!” I groaned. “You know I only agreed to the French door because you promised you’d be the one to paint it.” Lia feigned astonishment. “You mean you haven’t got over that little tantrum we had when we bought it?” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll have to paint it then.” I poured us both another glass of wine and we snuggled, our free hands wandering under each other’s robes. It is a curious thing: I’ve noticed that when we’re both aroused, Lia can always think more clearly than I do. Perhaps it’s all the blood migrating southward, leaving my brain oxygen-starved. She finished her wine and, gripping my balls firmly, began stroking my shaft very slowly. Whatever critical faculties remained dissolved in a sea of lust. “Tell me about your favourite sex scene,” she said as she tossed her blond hair, still fluffy from the towel. I stopped tonguing her hardened nipple long enough to utter a muffled “You’ve heard it all before.” “Tell me again,” she insisted. Reluctantly I put the tongue bath on hold and gathered my scattered wits. “I love it when you tease me mercilessly until I can’t hold out any longer, and then we have a mind-blowing fuck.” She stopped stroking, and my arousal ebbed slightly. “I know you enjoy being teased and held close to your orgasm for a long time, but I don’t really like it. As soon as I get really close, I just want to finish quickly.” My erection sagged as anxiety began to set in. “We’ve always been different that way, but I thought you were comfortable teasing me as long as you got to climax whenever the tension became too much for you.” Lia smiled reassuringly. “Oh, I love teasing you. It’s just that I sometimes wonder about myself. Does getting orgasms while you’re denied turn me on? Shouldn’t loving sex be all about sharing?” “Well, I’m not really being denied,” I replied. “I know you’d finish me off any time I asked. I think it’s great that the scene turns you on, and I love the huge bang I get at the end of a long tease. What could be more loving and sharing than that?” “I suppose so,” she said uncertainly. “It’s just that I don’t like the idea that subconsciously, I might be getting back at you for those little frictions and irritations in our relationship.” I thought for a while, trying to understand. “Do you feel we’re not talking things out properly so that you’re still feeling anger or resentment?” I asked cautiously. “No, that’s not it. Sometimes it takes a while, but eventually, we always sort things out.” “But talking things out can still leave you feeling like you’d hit me over the head with a pillow?” I hazarded. “Yes! That is exactly it. The issue might be resolved in my mind, but I would feel better if I thumped you… without really hurting you, of course.” “Would you love me any less while you were thumping me with a pillow?” I asked. “No, of course not. I’d just be releasing the last bit of resentment.” “Then perhaps playing at denying me sexually is just another way of thumping me with a pillow?” I suggested. Lia was quiet for a while, then resumed her gentle stroking and gave me a big grin. “OK! You’ve convinced me,” she said. “I won’t feel guilty about teasing you anymore! I was thinking we deserved a rest from painting. Why don’t we have a big tease tomorrow?” “That’d be great!” I said gleefully. “Do you think this fellah can hang on until tomorrow?” she asked playfully, patting my cock. “If you can handle it, so can I,” I boasted. “Well! Lia said. “In that case, why don’t we make a bit of a contest out of it? We need an incentive to make you want to resist my teasing for as long as possible.” She looked at my puzzled expression expectantly, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “I know,” she said as if struck by inspiration. “If you can hold out from now until bedtime tomorrow—say ten o’clock—I’ll paint the French door. If you fail, then the job is yours!” I’d been set up. She had even given herself a head start by revving me to the red line a day early while I’d barely started on her. “But you agreed to paint the door when we bought it. What’s my incentive for taking the chance of being stuck with it?” “You get to live out your fantasy all day long, and we’ll have some great lovemaking sometime during the day. How can you lose?” “I could lose by having to paint that horrible door,” I said gloomily. Lia snuggled up against me, pressing her breast against my side. “Come on! You know you’ll have a wonderful time, and with your iron self-control, you’re not likely to lose,” she said, displaying an unexpected talent for irony. “You’ll have such fun. We both will!” “What if you accidentally put me over?” I asked. “I’ll just have to put you on your honour to tell me when you’re getting close so I can either stop for a bit or do a squeeze,”
“On you. You can’t masturbate either.” “Right!” I gave in. “You’re on! We’ll fight to the orgasm.” III It was still dark when I woke up, feeling warm breath tickling my groin and a soft warmth enveloping me. Lying on my back, Lia was giving me a heavenly, luxurious blow job. She noticed that I was awake and let go long enough to say, “I thought I’d get off to an early start!” Remembering our contest, I reluctantly wriggled away from her. “Oh no you don’t!” she said. “You agreed to submit to all my caresses. Just lie back and enjoy!” For ten or fifteen minutes she licked and sucked, fondling my balls the whole time. It felt wonderful. She kissed my lips, rolled over, and was soon asleep. I remained awake for quite a while until the erotic charge dispersed enough to let me nod off. The clock radio woke me. She was already snuggled up behind me, gently stroking me. Half asleep, I drowsed for a while as pleasure infused me, then rolling over, I kissed her and started to leave the bed to get our morning coffee, juice and cereal; an inviolable daily routine. Hanging on to me, she protested. “I’d like a little lovemaking before you go.” “Well, I never turn down a request from my Lady,” I replied. I settled back into bed, resting my head on her breast as I set myself to the enjoyable task of stroking her thighs and buttocks. The angle was awkward for her, but she continued to fondle me gently. After a while, things became hot and heavy and I slipped in from behind, barely thrusting while I stroked her clit. She moaned appreciatively, seeming to understand that I couldn’t manage hard strokes without losing control. As she became more aroused though, her restraint gave way to increasingly forceful movements. She came hard, gasping from the force of her climax, just as I desperately pulled out. I definitely wasn’t in good shape, but I had survived Lia’s first orgasm. We snuggled for a few minutes, my rigid, twitching penis pressed against her. I kissed her back and set off for the kitchen reflecting that the sexual slow-down that comes with age can very occasionally be a blessing. We sat in bed enjoying breakfast and then played a round of backgammon while we finished coffee. Lia won and, delighted with her victory, ordered me to take off my robe and lie on my back. Anointing me with lube, she stripped off and sat astride me. With her labia parted, she pressed her clitoris to the sensitive part of my partially erect cock. She rocked and slid gently back and forth and as I stiffened, she pinched my nipples and stroked my chest. Her own nipples hardened and she brushed my lips with them in an invitation I was quick to accept. Lia watched my level of arousal carefully, slowing down when she thought I was close. My breathing must have given me away, for I certainly accentuated my usual groans of pleasure, hoping that she would ease up prematurely. Time and time again, she brought me to the edge and cooled me down until at last she came with a shuddering climax. Quickly lying on top of me she guided me into her and moved her bottom gently up and down while kissing my neck and nibbling my earlobes. I gripped her soft buttocks as my whole body craved release. I was in deep trouble. IV “Four of five strokes and it would all be over. It’d feel so good! Just one little word. That’s all it would take.” “Never!” I forced the word through my teeth. “I’m not going to let you win.” “That’s my brave husband,” she said, climbing off me. “I’m going to give you a little rest. We’ll take a shower and we’ll walk around the lake. By the way, do you mind if I shave the little bit of hair just to an inch or two below your belly button?” “Whatever for?” I asked. There wasn’t much hair there, but it seemed a very odd request. “Oh” Lia said airily, “I have a little toy I want to tape to you and I don’t want to pull your hair when we take the tape off.” I was both intrigued and alarmed to hear this, but I didn’t probe any further. I would know all about it soon enough. In the shower, we washed each other’s backs and she shaved a narrow strip just below my navel. Then she had me lie on the bed and gently teasing me erect, she taped my penis to my abdomen with medical tape. “I had to think hard about how I could make this work. The trouble with your penis is that it changes size so much. Do you think it will hurt you to be stretched if you lose your erection?” Lia asked with a worried expression on her face. “No. As long as you don’t try to stretch it any longer than its fully erect length, it won’t hurt at all.” She taped her vibrator it to the sensitive area just below the head of my penis. “This is the one with a remote control,” she giggled. “I thought it might make our walk more interesting for you!” “Isn’t the bulge going to show?” I asked in panic. “What if I cum?” “I suppose you could drape your summer jacket over your arm in a nonchalant way if you need to hide anything,” she laughed. Lia pocketed the remote control and we set off on our walk. At first nothing happened. We chatted and the expected buzz didn’t materialize. It was a lovely sunny day, and although my stretched and flaccid penis was a bit uncomfortable, I almost forgot about my predicament as we left the road and strolled beside the lake. That was when the buzzing started. Curiously, it didn’t make me erect, but the constant mild irritation drove me to distraction. It became hard to hold up my side of the conversation. She made sure there was no-one around and then added to my difficulties by fondling my buttocks. “You know, teasing you is such a turn-on,” she said. “I’m going to need some relief from all this sexual tension when we get home.” She favoured me with a fiendish grin. “I bet you’ll be ready to join me in a rip-roaring orgasm.” I maintained a stoic silence, trying to think of anything but the buzzing below my navel. We left the parkland and began to walk through busier parts of town. She lowered the intensity of the vibration but, by this time, I was in such a state that it didn’t help much. I suppose she didn’t want the buzzing sound to raise eyebrows. “Let’s stop at the coffee shop for lunch?” Lia suggested. I groaned. “Shouldn’t we get home quickly so you can get your sexual relief?” I asked hopefully. “Oh, I think one always enjoys a meal more when one’s had a chance to build up an appetite,” she replied cryptically as she led the way into the coffee shop. As we approached the counter, I had a nasty premonition that I was going to be zapped. The noise level in the coffee shop would certainly mask the sound of the vibrator. Just as it was my turn to be served, Lia revved the power up and down repeatedly. I managed to stutter out our order, while juggling my jacket and wallet and blushing furiously at the quizzical look on the girl’s face. I paid quickly, gathered the tray and made my way to our table, partly bent over to try to minimize the effect of Lia’s playfulness. “Is your back sore you poor dear?” she crooned, as she turned off the instrument of my affliction. “You’re all hunched over. Tell me all about it!” I glared at her, but held my tongue. I didn’t want to provoke her. She turned to the topic of our garden and our plans for new perennials and gradually my discomfort subsided a little. We started for home and were chatting amiably about a water feature we wanted to install when we ran into the very attractive daughter of a friend of Lia’s. The women talked animatedly while I stood to one side enjoying the woman’s sun-tanned breasts, delightfully showcased by her minimal sundress. Lia must have noticed my preoccupation out of the corner of her eye, because a very gentle tingle began again. The combination of visual and the tactile stimuli provoked a huge erection. I felt both wonderful and horribly frustrated. As we parted company, I couldn’t resist darting a look back at the swaying bottom astride endless legs. The power jolted briefly giving me a spasm of pleasure. I gasped. “Naughty! Nau
“Righty!” Lia declared. “What’s the plan?” I looked at her with a confident grin. “You always told me it didn’t matter where I satisfied my hunger, as long as I ate in our house.” She nodded approvingly and switched off the vibrator. “We wouldn’t want you going numb now, would we,” she noted. IV Upon returning home, she carefully peeled away the medical tape and wiped us both down with a warm, damp washcloth. “Sixty-nine position,” she announced brightly. “I’m on top.” I got to work enthusiastically while she gently tongued my scrotum. Lia was highly aroused; after just a few minutes of me running my hands over her heavy breasts and circling my tongue around her engorged clitoris, she loudly called out in pleasure. She climaxed with a shuddering moan and collapsed next to me. “Wow! That was fantastic,” she said. “I can’t recall ever being so turned on.” She snuggled closer, resting her head against my chest. “I’m really impressed by how well you’re holding out. Why don’t we call it a draw? I’ll put the masking tape on the door and you paint it.” I pondered for a moment before squeezing her tight. “You truly are one of the sweetest! I wouldn’t mind doing this often, but I’m having a wonderful time and am thrilled that all of this is turning you out so much. I’d like to see it through, but know that after everything you’re doing for me today, whichever side wins, I’ll tape and paint your French [door].” “You have a soft heart and I love you for it. But an agreement is an agreement, and if you want to continue playing, then I think we should stick to the original terms. Expect no leniency!” Lia stroked me gently for a while, then propped herself up on one elbow to study my genitals. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so erect. The skin at your glans is all shiny and purple, and your balls look huge. How does it feel?” “There’s a sort of stinging ache in my testicles… not severe, but constant. I feel generally swollen and full. There’s tremendous tension and a desire for release. I crave your touch because it offers soothing relief, yet at the same time, it heightens my need to let go. It’s a delightful catch-22.” “Well, let’s do a couple of hours gardening. I’ll give you a proper rest so you can gather strength for the next round.” We spent an enjoyable summer afternoon tending to the flowerbeds and true to her word, Lia did nothing else to stimulate me. As a reward for our efforts, she brought us both long glasses of cold tonic water. After another victory at backgammon, Lia led the way to the bedroom where we both stripped off. She plugged in our wand massager, stretched out on the bed with her bent legs apart and head supported by three pillows, then ordered me to kneel between them before pulling me close so my cock rested atop her pussy. I was soon trembling and sweating as she massaged me with nimble fingers and stimulated me with the vibrator. She applied a bit of lubricant to us both, drew me in as closely as possible, held my glans against her clitoris, and pressed us together using the head of the wand. The sensation was incredible, especially when she began small pelvic thrusts to boost stimulation. I gasped at the intensity of the pleasure. Each time I neared ejaculation, she removed the vibrator; as the feeling subsided, she reapplied it, asking if I wanted to come. My refusals grew increasingly desperate. Gasping, her face and chest flushed red, she suddenly squeezed me firmly with her free hand while pressing down hard with the wand’s head. My cock convulsed uselessly in her tight grip as she groaned in ecstasy during her onrushing orgasm. We lay close together, holding each other as our breathing slowed and heartbeats quietened. My groin and lower abdomen felt quite uncomfortable. I was just concluding that things had progressed beyond pure enjoyment when she sat up to examine me again.
“Oh my,” she exclaimed. “You are in tough shape. I’ll soothe you with a gentle massage. What can we do to take your mind off the trouble? Why don’t you suck on my nipples, poor dear?” I sucked like a man possessed while she continued teasing me. I sensed that she would keep going until I broke. She teased me to the edge with gentle sucking and perineum massage. She stopped just in time, and my cock spasmed in vain. My balls felt as though they were ready to burst. My prostate was aching, my penis bloated and throbbing. I was completely consumed by lust. I’d had enough.
“Enough,” I moaned. “Please let’s finish this.” Lia pushed me onto my back and guided me in. She pumped hard and fast. I gripped her buttocks desperately, my whole body tensing unbearably. My explosion was huge, almost painful in its intensity. Powerful spasms of pleasure wracked me as I lay there gasping, completely unstrung with a pounding heart. We held each other close for a while of rest. She kissed me softly. My muscles felt like jelly. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so utterly relaxed.
“I love my wicked cock-teaser,” I murmured.
“I love my man, iron self-control and all,” she chuckled.
My last thought before drifting off was that perhaps painting the French door wouldn’t be so very bad after all.